Ofia Begum Ali

I start throwing out words like duty of care and patient rights like I am starring in a reboot of Ally McBeal.

I'm not an expert, but I'm exactly who my father needs me to be.

So I go back to the hospital to visit my father and to speak with the patient advocate.

And I am careful not to lose my temper around him.

And I explain everything from the silence to the language barrier.

And all this man did was send one message to my father's entire care team.

And that's when things started changing.

They finally call an interpreter and it's someone who speaks my father's language.

And for the first time, my father understands what is happening to his body.

And for the first time, he has a voice in his treatment plan.

The doctors also call me regularly, and they explain the diagnosis and the next steps.

And I have nothing left to say.

And that's when the doctor pauses and asks, how are you feeling?

For a moment, I imagine myself punching him in the face and yelling, how the fuck do you think I feel?

But instead, I just breathe.

Because this time, I choose to be the advocate.

But here's a thing I never saw coming.

Advocacy gave me something unexpected.

Moments to bond with my mom and dad.

These moments weren't just about paperwork or appointments anymore.